“Telling would have halted any further talk.”
“I think my mother knows more than she has told me. Did she suspect I would lose my sight too? Perhaps she did not wish to alarm me, or she wanted to ensure the chance of good marriages for us all was not put in jeopardy.”
“Indeed. A mother protecting her children I can understand.” She nodded and smiled warmly. “Your father’s death must have affected you terribly at such a young age.”
He repressed a shudder. “I found him. In his study. I heard the shot and…” Her hand found his and she squeezed. He told her, “We will do almost anything to protect the ones we love. My mother taught me that. She cleaned up the mess and staged it so it looked as if the gun had accidently gone off while he was cleaning it. All the while she was wiping his brains off the desk and crying for the man she loved.”
“She must have loved him with all her heart.”
“We find the strength to do anything for those we love. If you are protecting someone you need to tell me. Your life is at stake and no one would expect that of you…to take the blame.”
“I would tell you if I was protecting anyone, I swear. But tell me this. Are you not giving up your life to protect the ones you love?”
He frowned. “How so?”
“I suspect you are thinking about taking your life when you go blind. But I tell you this. Killing yourself like your father did is not protecting those you love. Your family will be devastated just as your mother was. If you choose to throw away the life you have been given, the only person you are protecting is you.”
A horse’s kick could not have made her words hit home any harder. Perhaps she was right. Was it the coward’s way out? He hated to be thought of as a coward. For the first time in his life he viewed his father’s death in a different light. He thought back to his mother’s pain. What about his pain? He wished his father had been there as he grew up and had to deal with his responsibilities.
As if she knew what he was thinking, she said, “I’m pretty sure that if you asked your mother, she would prefer your father alive by her side even if he could not see.”
His blood ran cold and he could barely breathe because he knew that is exactly what his mother would say.
“Besides, I think I’d like you alive and in the world, even if you could not see.” Once again she lightened the somber mood.
Just then he noticed the carriage had come to a halt.
His mouth dried and he had to look away. As he stepped out to greet Helmstone and Dorothea, for the first time since he knew he was afflicted like his father, his shoulders felt lighter.
Then Dorothea was in his arms, and Helmstone was helping Penelope out of the carriage. He had to turn away from the look that passed between the two friends. It spoke of friendship and something more, and his good mood vanished. For the first time ever, he wanted to smash Helmstone’s tender, smiling face to pieces—brother-in-law or not.
Chapter 9
After a pleasant dinner, Dorothea and Penelope left the men to their port and cheroots and it was time for Stephen to ask his questions. However, before he could ask Jonathan anything, his friend said, “It is a great re-re-relief that you a-a-are helping her. Pen-Pen-Penelope would never have ki-ki-killed Carmichael. Hell, I’d offered to ki-ki-kill him myself many times and she’d always said no. The drunken fool fell from the cliff.”
“That’s not what the evidence is pointing to. Evidence the magistrate chose to suppress. Do you know anything about that?”
The stutter began in earnest as his brother-in-law tried to explain the unexplainable. Jonathan was lying.
“Don’t. Don’t lie any more. His horse was found tied to a tree. Why would Carmichael have stopped there?”
“To re-re-relieve himself.”
“The tree was at least twenty feet from the cliff’s edge. How did he happen to stumble off?”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you w-w-were helping P-Pen.”
Stephen flinched at the use of her shortened name. It spoke of intimacies and closeness, and his inner beast roared. “I am. That is why I need to know what Rotham may uncover so I can counter it.”
“Her st-st-staff has sworn she ne-ne-never left the hou-house that night.”
“You don’t know Rotham. He could pay or coerce her staff to change their statements. It would only take one to cast doubts.”
Jonathan shook his head vigorously. “They w-w-would never do that. They w-w-would die before they be-be-betrayed her. They love her.”
Did Jonathan love her? He battled the jealousy and knew in his heart Jonathan loved Dorothea. He hoped so as Dorothea loved Jonathan more than life itself.
“Then I surmise that someone else lured him to a stop and made sure he went over the cliff. You mentioned you’d have killed him for her. Could someone else have done it for her? Her staff, her tenants?”
“That’s a p-p-possibility but I be-be-believe it was someone Car-Car-Carmichael had crossed.”
“Pushing a man off a cliff does not feel like a masculine crime.”
Jonathan nodded and refilled his glass. “But what if someone w-w-wanted to make it look like a cr-cr-crime a woman might have done? What if someone w-w-wanted to make it look like a wo-wo-woman had pushed him off and then blame P-P-Pen?”
“It’s something Rotham would do.”
“Or someone who simply w-wanted the law to look the other way.”
Stephen sat up in his chair. “Do you know of such a person?”
“There were ru-rumors that Carmichael and a vicious smuggler were in business. But I could never as-ascertain what the cargo was. I had my m-men patrol the coastline as b-best we could and w-work with the excise men.”
He eyed his new friend. “But you have an idea, don’t you?”
Jonathan looked uncomfortable and could not look him in the eye. “I have not voiced anything as I was trying to protect P-Pen.”
“We can protect her more when we have all the facts.”
Jonathan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “There is a ru-rumor in the village that Car-Carmichael liked young girls.” Jonathan looked at him to see if he understood those words and unfortunately he did. It made him sick. His brother-in-law continued. “My man thinks Car-Carmichael was in league with a French-m-man who delivered young girls to Carmichael. I think Carmichael got his m-money not from being successful at cards as P-Pen thinks, but by running a network, selling these g-girls to anyone with the money and perversion.”
Now he understood why Jonathan could not reveal this. If Penelope learned what her husband had done, she might not be able to live with herself. Or worse, she would have wanted to kill him herself.
A cold dread galloped over his skin. Did she know? Had she killed him? He would not blame her if she had. Or did she have someone do it for her?
“You don’t think she found out?”
“No.” But there was fear in his voice.
“She could have organized to have him killed. I know I would have killed him myself if I had known.” He wondered why Jonathan hadn’t.
“I only found out the t-truth after he was killed.”
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. “This is why you’ve covered up most of the investigation.”
“It was st-stupid, I know, but I just could not bear for P-Pen to learn the truth. She has suffered enough. If it became public knowledge the sc-scandal would follow her forever. She’d be shunned by association.” Jonathan took a long swig of port. “I won’t have that happen to her twice.”
“So. You’ve been protecting her and now it’s coming back to bite you.”
Jonathan looked forlorn. “I didn’t think Rotham would take it further. I should have known, given Carmichael’s will, but I had no idea Rotham was needing the money.”
Penelope’s situation just go
t more complicated. He was just like Jonathan. He wanted to protect her name and position but at what cost? Would protecting her make her a suspect for murder?
Jonathan interrupted his thoughts. “I have no idea how we can prove any of this. If Carmichael’s deal went bad with the Frenchman then he’s unlikely to come back.”
He moved to the edge of his chair. “Unless someone killed Carmichael to take over the trade.”
Jonathan’s eyes opened wide. “Goodness. I had not considered that. If this is true we have to stop them. Not just to save Penelope, but to halt this des-despicable trade too.”
“Surely someone in the village knows more than they are saying. Who was Carmichael’s right-hand man?”
“I don’t know if you’d call him that, but Jamie Stewart, his valet, always seemed to be at his side.”
Stewart was missing, Penelope had already told him that. “Could it be anyone else? Stewart is missing, apparently.”
Jonathan frowned and shook his head. “That is not correct. He’s been seen in Sea-Seaford last week.”
That was the first good news he had heard. “Then I have somewhere to start my investigation. I’ll take Penelope home tomorrow and start with Jamie Stewart.”
“Start what with Jamie Stewart?” Penelope asked as the women reentered the room.
Jonathan and Stephen leapt to their feet.
His sister approached. “Sorry, my love. I got impatient waiting for you men to finish whatever it is you are discussing.”
Jonathan hugged Dorothea and it still made Stephen uncomfortable. His little sister was no longer under his protection. Given his affliction, that was not a bad thing. He just hoped he could see his nieces and nephews when they were born.
“Your brother was ensuring I am looking after you appropriately and treating you like a princess.”
He could not deny the look of love Dorothea beamed at her husband. Perhaps the poets were right, and some couples were lucky enough to find someone they could trust their heart to. He was sure his heart did not have the capacity to love. His blindness filled his body with too much hate and disillusion.
Dorothea preened in his arms. “You do, my love, but I caught Penelope yawning and she has had a long journey over the past few days. Perhaps an early night is called for and I want to finish my packing. I’m excited about going to Seaford with both of you. I get to spend some time with my two favorite men.”
His sister took Jonathan’s hand and began to lead him from the room. “Do you need me to show you back to your room? The house is quite large.”
Penelope smiled. “I know the way. I have stayed at Helmstone Manor many times over the years. I would also like a quick word with Lord Clevedon before he retires.”
“Of course. You can show Stephen to his room if he’s lost. I keep forgetting you and Jonathan are neighbors and old friends.”
To Stephen’s relief his sister did not seem to be jealous or upset by Penelope’s remarks, unlike him. His body tensed and for some reason he hated that Jonathan had been able to spend so much time with her—alone.
As she passed him, Dorothea reached up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t keep my brother up late. He’s looking a tad tired.”
As the door closed behind the departing couple, Penelope said, “She’s right. You do look tired.”
Probably because he had tossed and turned all night, as the image of her delicious naked body laid out for his viewing stirred his passions, making sleep impossible. “What is it you want?” Then he was displeased because he’d let his bad mood be known.
She moved past him and her sweet fragrance flamed his passions as it always did. There was something about this woman that drew him and while he liked her, and wanted to help her, he could not let himself feel for her—other than desire. She knew the worst about him and he could not bear her to be with him out of pity.
“Your sister is adorable. I can see why Jonathan is so smitten. They are both very lucky.”
He could not agree more.
She did not sit but instead stood at the large window at the end of the dining room. “I would like your word as a gentleman that you will share everything you learn during your investigation with me.”
His head snapped up to look at her. “That was not part of our agreement.”
“Maybe not, but now I am asking you to be truthful. What have you learned of Jamie Stewart?”
He could not bring himself to be the one to tell her about Carmichael, but a half-truth was better than a lie. “He has been seen in the village at Seaford.”
“And that is relevant why?”
Again, a half-truth. “Both Jonathan and I are not sure. Why would he be back? What family other than yourself or Helmstone could afford a valet in this area?”
“You would be surprised. There are quite a few well-heeled families in the area.” She seemed to ponder on that statement. “But it is very odd.”
“Mr. Stewart will be the first person I question tomorrow after I’ve seen you home.”
She moved toward him and his body stirred. “I shall come with you on the first visit to the village. They do not know you but they trust me. I shall introduce you.”
“There is no need. I shall take Helmstone with me. The villagers know him.”
She came to stand right in front of him. “But not like they know me. If you want them to be honest with you, let me path your way.”
She was standing too close and he couldn’t think. “That does seem sensible. Jonathan and Dorothea can travel in their carriage and meet us at your estate. We shall take a detour to the village, and then the day after tomorrow Jonathan and I will begin our questioning.”
“Perfect.” She stood, looking at him expectantly. “What, no attempt at seduction tonight? We are quite alone in this room and the house is abed.”
He fought an inner battle. He wanted to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to lay her down on the fur rug before the fire and ravish her but he was getting too close. His irrational anger at her relationship with Jonathan, the way he could not stop thinking about her for a single second, and the way he forgot that he was investigating a man’s death, a death she could be a part of, warned him to slow down.
“Not tonight. Like you mentioned, I’m tired.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. A small smile escaped as he noted her frown. “Besides, what did I tell you about anticipation?” He looked into her eyes. “Soon, my sweet. Soon I will show you what you have been missing, but not tonight.”
This time it was he who walked away. As he opened the door and made to retire, he smiled at her over his shoulder. “Pleasant dreams.”
* * *
—
Blast the man. Her body had been on edge all through dinner, wondering what pleasures he might introduce her to tonight. The intimacies they shared in the carriage had awakened the wanton in her. Or was it simply her body stirred whenever he spoke or smiled? He was so incredibly handsome it hurt to watch him, to be near him, and to not touch him.
And unfortunately, he was also very clever. She was beginning to think like Jane, that perhaps he had been a bad choice to become her white knight, in more ways than one. One, because he might uncover the truth, and two, because she was beginning to enjoy his company. She enjoyed having him to talk to and she was far too eager to be seduced. When he’d declined to further her introduction into pleasures of the flesh this very night, she’d been disappointed and the arrogant man had seen it.
She was supposed to be distracting him by succumbing to his advances, not following him around like a dog in heat. Feeling like a complete fool she, too, left the room to go and get some sleep.
She hoped that the dreams of his lips, his touch, his velvet purr voice, did not steal her sleep.
Somehow, she doubted it.
She could feel her heart thudding as
she walked up the stairs, but it wasn’t excitement that had her in its grip. It was the man himself. Her heart slipped out of her reach, refusing to remain locked away. Yet she knew men like him, knew love wasn’t something any lady could demand from them. If anything, it was she who scorned love. She knew better. She knew it made you lose your common sense, made you throw all caution to the wind. Love made fools of people, and women just like men hated to look the fool. Women were weaker, though. Men instinctively guarded against it, resisted it; if the emotion should raise what they considered its ugly head, they ran a mile. Women tended to run toward it, to grip on to the hope of it, even when they usually fell flat on their faces.
Women risked so much in love. They risked their reputations, their assets, their very person. She paused on one of the stairs. Love made people do stupid things. She had to keep reminding herself of this.
Plus, lest she forget, Stephen was going blind. He would never burden a wife with his disability, nor did he wish to produce an heir. He would never marry. Perhaps she should consider him as a lover and friend, but she, too, would not risk getting with child out of wedlock.
If she was to remarry, she would only do so in order to have children. She so wanted to hold a babe, her babe, in her arms. The one thing Stephen feared above all else—a child of his own. Why else would she marry? So she could not lose her heart to him because he could not give her what she craved.
Yet once again her heart was leading her. Would giving in to her feelings cause her more pain or would it bring her a joy she’d longed for all those years ago? And what would he think of her when he learned the truth? Would that destroy any bit of regard he held for her? Giving this man her heart was almost a bigger risk than eloping with Carmichael had been. He could crush her and she would not recover a second time if she fell in love only to discover that he could never love her in return. Despite what he or her brother thought, she wasn’t that strong.
Drawn to the Marquess Page 10